Remembering
by Emi Lyndon
Summary: Occasionally, C.C. likes to close her eyes and remember. C.C. reflects on Lelouch's life. Major end of season spoilers


Occasionally, she likes to close her eyes and remember. It's still perfectly lucid in her mind's eye, and she doesn't need any of that substance they call _refrain_. She'd like to think that she'll always remember his face, his sacrifice, his _legacy_ without any difficulty (or simply to remember it at all), but that would be a lie, and that would be wrong. Because everything fades over time, and she knows that much too well. Eventually, his bright memory will be gone from hers, and the world will lose him forever.

It's been many years since Lelouch died. She's barely associated herself with the petty little humans since then… it seems stupid and unnecessary. Sometimes it's impossible to avoid, but when she can, things are so much simpler. Suzaku is getting old, now. He's wiser and less impetuous, preferring to wait and watch. Britannia's rule is fading, lessening. Nunnally is still alive and grieving (though the rest of the world doesn't see it – they won't miss him. They thought he was a tyrant.) and trying to make her way through this strange life, where time sits at a standstill and all you can do is wait and think and breathe.

That's the way it's always been for C.C.

But now...

Right now, she sees his smile. Not the fake plastic imitation of it, but the _real thing_, radiant in its glory, beautiful, unblemished by the wear that is hardship and pain. No, all of that slipped away in the early time, when he was Nunnally's _brother_, and she was his life. It was a rare thing, that smile, but when it snuck in (softly, always softly), the whole world lit up with its brilliance.

Now, she sees his frustration. She can remember a time when he was in a rush before going to settle some trivial problem or other, and he was wearing his suit and his mask sat on the table (mocking him secretly), but he was running from one room to the other barefoot, ranting about how he couldn't find _two matching black socks._ He never did find any, and was forced to wear _navy blue_ (Oh, the horror!). She snickers a little at that thought. Lelouch was always so vain, so self-absorbed and yet he had this genuine quality that allowed him to care for others: Nunnally, Kallen, Suzaku, the rest of the Student Council members. That was part of the reason she chose him in the first place. He could be ruthless, but he _did _care (Plus, he was a great actor – he put on a good show even if he _didn't _care).

She could remember (so well) the pain in those fathomless violet eyes; it was so much more common than his smile. She'd comforted him when he killed Euphemia, and whispered soft condolences when Shirley was murdered. The night before the Zero Requiem, before he stood up there in his white suit, proud and sad and knowing his fate, she'd barely said anything. What was there? Nothing was necessary. She wouldn't get her wish – and she'd _so hoped_ that he could be the one, the one to deliver her from this disguised curse – and she might never get it again. Lelouch had been _right_, not a complete disappointment (like all the other contracts had been).

_Now, she sees the final flicker in his eyes, the one that says a million words, but only two are really important._

"_I won," it says. "I finally won."_

The crimson blood soaks through the white of his formerly pristine coat as he slumps forward on the sword he's skewered on. C.C flinches as it slides out of his body, unsheathed, thirsty for more bloodshed. She closes her eyes as he falls forward, sliding down to the base of his (bloodied) stage, where Nunnally lies chained in her humiliation, leaving a streak of scarlet.

There he lies, bleeding and dying. He knows what's coming next. He knows it so well, and he's _ready_ for it (Waiting for it, wanting it).

Nunnally _wants_ to know what's going on. She opens her eyes, hearing the screams and silent shock rippling through the onlookers.

And she sees.

She sees her beloved brother lying in front of the entire world, she's watching the emperor perish while everyone surveys, unmoving.

frozen.

(Poised in the space between time and terror, life and death, hope and doubt; straining the atmosphere, holding everything in its place, anticipating the catastrophe to follow.)

But yet C.C still watches (because it's fascinating in a twisted way and for some reason, she _has_ to).

He lets out a soft sigh (and the world holds its breath)

and he _closes his eyes_ (the opposite of Nunnally's wide-eyed innocence)

and the sigh hangs gently in the air

before dropping with a deafening clatter to the concrete

_and the world erupts into chaos._

C.C. makes sure she's still breathing, though there's this odd hitch whenever she inhales – she scolds herself for allowing herself to care at all. After all, she's a _witch_, doomed to live forever.

So she picks up and walks away from the smiling sun, turns away from it all. She's not going to look back.

Not for a while, at least.

Because one day, the world will forget, and she'd like to think that she won't (even if it's a lie).


End file.
